Today makes two weeks. My brother called to see how I was doing yesterday and, after a few minutes, finally ventured “Is it too soon to ask what happened?”
“Oh. No, of course not. What happened is… we just fell out of love I think.”
The things is, there are always so many versions of the same story, and in this case they’re all true.
Version 1: TWD dumped me.
Version 2: Fucking TWD fucking dumped me over the fucking phone after I fucking bought him dinner the night before.
Version 3: TWD didn’t dump me and I didn’t dump him. It was civil, mutual and for the best. He actually meant “we need to talk” when he said “we need to talk” and over the course of said discussion, we came to a mature and rational decision—one that we probably should have come to months ago.
Version 4: I dumped TWD.
Version 5: I didn’t dump TWD. I just spent the past six months criticizing him.
Version 6: I am a horrible person. Why couldn’t I just be more accepting?
Version 7: TWD is a horrible person. Why couldn’t he just change???
Version 8: I have no regrets.
Version 9: I regret everything.
Version 10: I am glad we’re through. We would have made each other miserable in the end. We were making each other miserable.
Version 11: I’ve made a mistake. We’ve made a mistake. Possibly the worst of our lives. How am I ever going to find someone else like him?
Version 12: I’ve lost my best friend.